


The Job for Mass Fortune and Glory to our Names

by dimeadozen



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Explicit Sexual Content, Heist, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Sexual Tension, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimeadozen/pseuds/dimeadozen
Summary: Here is a story of the mutual pining between Jigen and Lupin, and how over time, their affection for each other will not be suppressed. Throughout this adventure, the two will learn how to maintain their friendship while learning how to express their love without putting the gang in danger.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Mine Fujiko, Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canonically set at the time of Part 2 (red jacket series) of Lupin the Third.

The hostel door slams open, and the two wet thieves jump inside, escaping from the pouring rain. Lupin squeezes out the water from his red jacket in content silence, and Jigen wrings his hat out, grumbling to himself. The Eastern Europe wet season has left the two to travel in the unforgiving downpour.

Jigen looks over the hostel room, his grumbling finishing into dumbfounded silence. It shouldn't surprise him that the last hostel room wouldn't bode in their favor, yet Jigen can't hide his shock. "Eh??" A single bed. Without hesitation, he throws his hand out to rock-paper-scissors for the claim.

Surprisingly, Lupin doesn't play along with the game. "Huh?" Jigen's scissor hand drops to his side, watching Lupin wander off. He is halfway across the room, stripping the wet attire and entering the bathroom. The great thief waves his hand as the bathroom door closes, aimlessly announcing he's going to shower. Jigen kicks off his shoes and clothes to be in his boxers only. He jumps on the bed, laying out flat in exhaustion. Whatever is going through Lupin's mind doesn't matter now, the thief lost and will be spending the night on the floor. Jigen settles in for the night, feeling his sense of reality escape him as he listens to the sound of running water.

In his half-conscious state, he finds himself giving in to the forbidden desires of his soul. He pictures a nude Lupin enjoying the hot spray of the shower, spinning around like a fool and humming a catchy tune. Jigen groans and turns in the bed, fighting off the impure thoughts. He has been Lupin's partner for years, and with each passing day, his affection for the thief grows. The friendly devotion manifested to one of love, desire, need, and trust. He never expected his distaste for women could drag him this far into a man's grasp. Jigen prides himself on withholding his desire and admiration for the thief, though in times like these, quiet and solitary moments where he wishes he could forget Lupin and his foolhardy nature. If only he could spend another five years away from Lupin and be on his own again. Jigen could live a life without this craving. Or if he could spend one night with Lupin.

Amid his lustful desires and dreams of freedom, Jigen slips into a deep slumber. Lupin exits the steamy bathroom, boxers, and undershirt on, cleaning out his ears with the towel. He isn't surprised to find his trigger happy gunman asleep on the bed, Jigen did drive for nine hours until neither could no longer stay awake on the road. Lupin smirks, crossing over to the bedside; with his calloused knuckles, he brushes Jigen's hair out of his eyes. The black rings around the gunman's eyes reveal the man's exhaustion and stress. A soft frown replaces the smirk, and Lupin finds a heavyweight of guilt falling on his shoulders. "When will you give it up, Jigen?"

It hits Lupin as he looks upon Jigen in bed that he's lost a game he didn't opt to play. He grumbles, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye, cursing himself for the comfort of a shower over gambling for the bed. However, Lupin wasn't the kind of guy to leave luck to control his life, but to create his own. Thus, Lupin climbs onto the empty space next to Jigen and slithers under the covers.

Jigen shifts and groans, feeling the sweat slide from his temple. He flutters his eyes awake, internally asking himself when did the temperature climb. That is when he notices the warm body against his back, and a thin arm loosely around his waist. Jigen starts, turning his head over his shoulder to find the sleeping Lupin; immediately, he shoves his hand against the thief's chest, nearly pushing him off.

"Hey, you lost the bed!"

Lupin mewls sleepily, his arms reaching out to Jigen. "Aw honey, don't do this to me… there's enough room for the two of us."

"Honey? Who the hell do you take me for, Lupin! It's too hot here with you anyway!"

"Hot? It's cold."

A chilly night breeze blows through the poorly insulated windows, gracing along Jigen's shoulders. He shudders, but he doesn't want to give in and show his true nature with Lupin. Jigen would rather die first than ruin his partnership with Lupin solely for satisfaction and love. "You'll survive, now off the bed, Lupin."

"Wha! Noooo," Lupin whines, pushing closer against Jigen's hand to eliminate the distance. "I don't wanna, just this once, Jigen, pretty please with a Mona Lisa on top?"

"Argh, Lupin, be a man and live with the consequences."

Somehow, Lupin defies Jigen's strength and clings to his neck. He pulls Jigen closer, nuzzling their cheeks together. "Sorry Jigen, I don't have that word in my vocabulary. Mmm, you're so warm, but you do smell, you should have taken a shower."

"Huh?? That's no way to butter up another man, Lupin."

"Oh? Tell me how to butter you up the right way then."

Jigen's cheeks turn red. What should have been a witty remark turns into silence. He refuses to play along, pushing Lupin hard enough to break the hold. "You're a child," he hisses, "I'll take the floor then." Jigen stands to leave the bed when he feels a tug on his briefs. The strands of his hair stand up, a shudder of pleasure races up his spine, and a familiar heat radiates from his loins. Jigen drops back on to the bed with a soft grunt. He finds himself captivated by awe to retort.

"You won fair and square, Jigen. I'm only riding on your goodwill."

"Huh? Who says you can do that?" Jigen shifts on the bed, doing his best to hide the spawning erection.

"We are partners, aren't we? Split everything 50-50. Why not this too?"

"You didn't even play," Jigen grumbles, "we're partners yeah, but not a couple, dammit Lupin. What happened to you, why are you acting like this?"

"You've got a great poker face, Jigen, but you suck at chess." Before Jigen could get another 'Huh' out, Lupin continues, "You never predict my next moves. Sure, you have an idea, but you don't take the time to study my play."

"Thanks for the insult. What's this got to do with chess, Lupin?"

Lupin sits up and scoots up behind Jigen. His legs and arms lazily wrap around the gunman, resting his chin on his shoulder. As he whispers, Lupin's breath tickles Jigen's ear. "Never expected this, did you?"

Reacting violently, Jigen pushes Lupin off of him, jumping up into a stand. "Cut this crap out! This isn't you! You fawn over women, not men, not me!" 

Lupin doesn't seem to mind the response; in fact, he looks unphased as if he knew it would happen. Instead, Lupin's soft eyes fall on Jigen's erection. Jigen yelps, covering himself with his hands. "My eyes are up here."

"Mine aren't," Lupin grins, "you're not an easy read, but it's been a while since we've known each other, Jigen. Sure, I figured you didn't want to waste your time, hurt your heart again with women. It took me at least a year to figure it out. It's been six years since we met Jigen, and you haven't been helping yourself out lately. From one friend to another, let me help you."

"No."

"Wha—"

"That's right. I said no. You're used to getting your way, but I'm not letting you. What I feel has nothing to do with you." 

"Oh? It doesn't, huh? Have you ever done it with a man before Jigen?"

"Not that it's any of your business, no. What does that matter, anyway?"

"You know my first time with a man was in Italy. I had these feelings for a man, a rival thief if you will. He was the best at reproducing famous art and swapping them out. Never caught by the police and constantly deceived the art experts, he stole hundreds of priceless paintings. I always found myself captivated and insulted by his work. A thief of my caliber ended up looking like an amateur pickpocketer whenever I stole his replication."

"Lupin…"

"If you're going to ask if we did it, I'll clear it up for you: we didn't. Instead, I went to a club, found an attractive man, and made use of the alleyway. It didn't help me any. My feelings for my rival only grew. When he disappeared, probably got rich enough to retire in a new life, I felt unfulfilled. I'm warning you, Jigen, if you go searching for something to replace whatever you're feeling, you'll end up lost."

"Don't worry about me; there's no reason for me to be searching for anything."

That wasn't the response Lupin wanted to hear, although he did respect it. He sighs, resigning to climb off the bed, taking a blanket and pillow with him. "Fine, fine." Lupin lays himself on to the floor and closes his eyes, "Night Jigen."

Jigen stares at Lupin's back, unsure if he should reveal in his victory or be ashamed. He sits back down on the bed, lowering his head to stare at the wooden floor. "What about you, Lupin?"

"What about me?"

"Are you searching?"

"I'm hurt, you act like you don't know me at all. I'm always searching, Jigen."


	2. Chapter 2

The Sun's rays insist on luring Lupin out of his slumber. He comes to his senses, rolling away from the light. As Lupin wakes, he expects to endure the agony from sleeping on the floor all night. Much to his surprise, underneath him, is a soft mattress, adjusting to his curves and weight. Lupin sits up immediately, looking around the bed for the splendid sight of Jigen. Unfortunately, he's met with an empty space by his side. He's getting ahead of himself if he believes Jigen's hardened heart would have cracked this early.

A loaf of bread hits the side of his face, dropping onto his lap. Lupin looks to the source of breakfast and sees Jigen leaning in the doorframe of the hostel room, dressed and ready to go. "Hurry up and eat, you're driving the rest of the way."

Lupin shudders, Jigen is usually stern and to the point, but this is just cold. Perhaps he went too far last night; although, Lupin didn't think he went far enough. He abides Jigen and eats his bread while getting ready for the day. 

The ride to the next stop is unusually quiet for Jigen. He is accustomed to Lupin insensate rambling or the tone-deaf singing to keep himself busy. Jigen always thought he'd enjoy the silence, yet he finds it more agitating. He looks over to Lupin, examining the thief's facial expression. Jigen sees the inner cogs of Lupin's brain turning. A small smirk breaks through the thick facial hair. He feels comforted that Lupin's trust and comradery haven't faded since last night. Although Jigen is surprised Lupin hasn't asked how he managed to end up on the bed, it's probably killing him not to ask. Deductive reasoning can only point to Jigen having moved him, yet the motive is amiss. Jigen's affections for Lupin could not be cast off so easily, despite Lupin's unnecessary approach the night before. He settles in the passenger seat, tilting his hat over his eyes to get a few extra winks of sleep before they arrive at their destination.

***

"And here I was afraid you wouldn't answer the call, Fujicakes."

Jigen lights his fourth cigarette of the day, watching Lupin converse on the phone from the cafe table. The rain continues to pour over the French countryside, encouraging the occupants of the cafe to dine within the estate. Jigen casually puffs smoke through his nostrils, eying his partner near the washrooms where the sole payphone sits on the wall. He can predict the conversation they are having with Lupin's words alone. Jigen clicks his tongue, looking down at the glass of wine before him. He knows Lupin will never give up Fujiko, despite how obvious she loves playing with his heart. Jigen wonders if this is what Lupin meant that he's always searching. To Jigen, it's more of a chase; regardless, he doesn't understand why Lupin gives up his life and money for a woman that uses him. Jigen sighs, crossing his arms; Fujiko's manipulative nature is why he left women behind, they can't be trusted.

"Where am I? Okay, I'll tell you. On one condition—you tell me what you're wearing, and I'll tell you where I am." Lupin breathes through his nose, his waist wiggling excitedly. "Oh baby, you're driving me wild, tell me what color— huh? Fujicakes? Hello? Fujiko?" Lupin sighs and hangs up the phone, reaching down to take the leftover change from the call. He strolls back to the cafe table, claiming the seat across from Jigen. There's a moment of silence as Lupin lights his cigarette.

"You know she traced your call," Jigen speaks up, looking up at the waitress that brings the table two plates of escargot and one cheese plate. Jigen's very Japanese-American palate frowns at the sight of the French cuisine.

"I'd be disappointed if she didn't." Lupin is the first to indulge in the snail entree, humming happily to the buttery, garlic taste. 

"Eh? You saying you wanted her to know? What's going on in that head of yours, Lupin?" Jigen takes the chance to bite into one of the snails. The texture sends a shiver down his spine. He holds back the discomfort and continues to eat; he's paying after all.

"She's part of the plan, the distraction. If it weren't for sweet Fujicakes, we'd be out of a job."

"How are you so sure she'll come here? That woman isn't to be trusted."

"You've got a fair point, Jigen, and I, a counterpoint. Did you see yesterday's paper?" From his inner breast pocket, Lupin takes out the newspaper clipping and unfolds it on to the table. He allows Jigen to examine the article while he finishes off his lunch.

Jigen leans forward, taking bread and cheese to munch on while he reads aloud. Through mangled bread and cheese, he mutters, "Three weeks ago, the French authorities uncovered the original Portrait of a Young Man by Raphael from a late art collector's auction. It has been determined by experts to be the true original. Since the 1940s, the Portrait of a Young Man believed destroyed by the Nazis with little hope for recovery. Because of this miraculous find, the painting's worth has gone up. Now, Raphael's self-portrait is estimated to be—" Jigen chokes on his bread, coughing rather violently.

The jubilant Lupin jumps up, slamming his hand against Jigen's back. "Haha! Now you understand why Fujiko will keep to her word. There's no way she can lose this job."

Jigen grumbles, "Yeah, I can see that. Have you called Goemon yet?"

"He will meet us in Paris tomorrow evening. Portrait of a Young Man will be transported the day after tomorrow to the Louvre, where it will be stored for safekeeping until it will be on display."

"Knowing Pops, he'll be all over Paris looking for us."

"I am counting on him too," Lupin returns to his seat, grinning wildly. "Huh? Don't look so surprised, Jigen. Pops is part of the plan this time." Lupin picks up his red wine glass, swirling the contents, "This job will be unlike any other, Jigen. A mass fortune and glory to our names."

The ever-familiar sparkle in Lupin's eyes stirs Jigen's heart. His life before joining with the famed thief resembled that of a long winter. With Lupin's fiery eyes, care-free smile, and jovial laugh, the snow is all been but melted. Jigen's gratitude is immense, although modest when shown; he follows Lupin's lead, reflecting his excitement and raises his glass in cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

Jigen takes a swig of a traditional, high-priced Chardonnay, giddy to be indulging in one of France's most exquisite delicacies. He looks over to Lupin at the hotel room's desk, holding up the bottle to his partner. Without stealing a glance, Lupin reaches behind him to take the bottle, draining nearly half the contents.

"Oi, Lupin! Don't finish it off! This stuff isn't cheap!" Jigen jumps to his feet, taking the bottle from Lupin's mouth. The thief grins up at him, his lips red from the suction, and a strand of saliva hangs off his lips. Jigen turns his gaze away, taking another swig to ward off the intruding thoughts. 

"Hehe, after this heist, we won't need to worry about money for a while." Lupin turns the dial down on the radio until it clicks off. He removes the earpiece and stretches out in the desk chair. "All right, everything is going according to plan with the French police, Louvre security and of course our good ol' Pops. Tomorrow night we'll make our move on the transport and remove the painting from the truck, then we'll be out of the city before sunrise."

"You make it sound so easy, Lupin," Jigen commends the thief. "So what happens if there's a double?"

"There's not."

"How can you be so sure?"

The hotel door opens, and the scent of Chanel No.5 drifts into the room. Lupin closes his eyes and sniffs the air, turning his twitching nose towards the door with a lovesick smile. He opens his eyes to see Fujiko entering in with her key.

"Lupin, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell the front desk we're married," Fujiko says nonchalantly, tossing the key to the coffee table. "It doesn't matter; I booked another room, anyway. Oh, and look who I ran into in the lobby." As she moves further into the room, Goemon steps into the entryway, his stoic expression seemingly never changing. "He is sure a sore thumb with his attire."

"Fujicakes! You made it! Rain or shine, you always look beautiful, Fujiko," Lupin exclaims, jumping to his feet. He goes in for a kiss when Fujiko steps out of his trajectory, and Lupin lands chin first in front of Goemon's feet. "Hello to you too, Goemon."

"It is nice to be considered as an afterthought," Goemon sarcastically remarks, taking his seat on the couch.

"Great, the gang's all here," Jigen breaks the pleasantries, "now how about answering my question, Lupin."

Lupin sits up from the floor and transfers to the loveseat across from the couch. He watches Fujiko from the corner of her eye; she goes to inspect the desk he had been working at for the past few hours. Lupin smirks when she rifles through the map of Paris and the copies of official documents relating to the painting and its transfer. "It's only recently the painting's been uncovered, Jigen. The French authorities want to ensure its security first and foremost, hence the time-sensitivity on the transport. If they were to duplicate the painting, to one that is nearly identical, it would take weeks."

"And there's only one guy who could make a forgery that great but he's off the map," Fujiko chimes in, leaning against the desk.

Lupin's brows life in surprise and Jigen's expression isn't far off. "What did you just say?" Jigen questions, his mouth nearly ajar in shock. It must be coincidence or fate that Fujiko mentioned the mysterious rival slash former unrequited love in Lupin's life.

"I'm referring to the legendary Adam Antonious Desrosiers," Fujiko breathes out, taken aback by the shock in the room. She walks over to the couch, stealing Jigen's now empty seat; she crosses her legs and continues. "Adam Desrosiers was famous in the Black Market. While there's no proof that he committed any felonies, there are numerous rumors that he forged hundreds of paintings and swamped for the originals for his art collection. Desrosiers' fame is nothing to dismiss; he managed to secure several paintings legally from auctions. His wealth and power are unrivaled in Europe, having connections in the Vatican, the mob, the government, and even royalty." Fujiko pauses to flip her hair off of her shoulder, "That is until he mysteriously disappeared. All of his estates were auctioned off, sold to the country, and independent buyers. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to uncover the current theories; however, auctioneers only found the legally obtained paintings, none of the stolen art pieces."

Jigen had moved to sit on the arm of the loveseat next to Lupin during the conversation. He absorbs the information given, attempting to process and breakdown the chinks in her explanation. As Jigen's mind works, he takes a glance to Lupin; the thief's face is blank, unreadable, but there's a particular look in his eye that he rarely sees; it's a look Lupin gets when he feels the heavyweight of regret. "I've heard contradicting tales of this guy. Some say he's a thief, and you're telling me those are only rumors and no official proof. What's the real story here?"

With his stoic expression never changing, Goemon opens his mouth to answer Jigen's inquiry. "It's true that rumors circulate around Desrosiers' identity. However, there is one thief who can confirm the truth." Goemon's eye opens to peer at Lupin.

Jigen looks back to Lupin, his shoulders slacking. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room that lasts longer than any person cares. The words of last night rings in Jigen's head: a thief of my caliber ended up looking like an amateur pickpocketer whenever I stole his forgeries. There is no doubt the sting of inadequacy and shame surfaces in Lupin's heart, and it pains Jigen to put Lupin in this predicament. Jigen parts his lips to change the conversation when Lupin stands up and stretches. "It's already late, and we have an early start tomorrow to prepare for the heist. If you have any questions about the plan, you can take it up with Jigen, I've filled him in on everything." Lupin leaves the living area of the hotel room, waving a hand over his shoulder as a sign of goodnight. The bedroom door closes, leaving the remaining three in uncomfortable silence.

"I shouldn't have brought him up," Fujiko mutters to herself. 

Fujiko comes to a slow stand, smoothing out her dress before stepping over Goemon's legs. She feels the samurai's hand grip her wrist, and she stops to look down at him. Goemon's expression finally softens, "You did nothing to harm Lupin. His internal battles are his alone to fight."

Fujiko smiles down at the samurai, "Thanks, Goemon." 

Within a few seconds after the intimate connection between Goemon and Fujiko, she leaves the hotel room. Her scent lingers in the air, though it quickly dissipates when Jigen lights his last cigarette. "What the hell was that?" Jigen breaks the silence, "you trying to take Lupin's woman or something?"

"No," Goemon replies, "it would not be honorable to allow a woman to be restless through the night."

"Tch, I doubt she'd lose a wink."

"You're unusually cold-hearted tonight, Jigen. Is something bothering you?"

"No. It's just—Lupin's been acting weird; lately, it's getting on my nerves and making my feet itch."

"I see. The stakes are high this time. Perhaps Lupin does not want to fail."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Goemon. Lupin is a name that holds weight, and his heart is too soft to do the wrong thing."

"A warrior is worthless unless he rises above others and stands strong in the midst of a storm."

Jigen opts for silence as his response, knowing that Goemon is once again right. He sets the Chardonnay bottle on the coffee table, leaving the rest for Goemon and heads for the second bedroom in the hotel room. "I'll fill you in the morning, Goemon. Let's get some rest."

The door clicks closed behind him, and Goemon opens his eyes. "Have I truly been left to sleep on the couch? An afterthought most certainly." Goemon leans forward to take the gifted bottle, a soother for his wounded pride.

Once inside the privacy of the bedroom, Jigen sits down on the edge of the bed. He wonders how Lupin is enduring after the painful stab at his pride by the woman he loves. He can't imagine Lupin to lose himself in sorrow; then again, the famous thief is still human. Jigen wishes he could cross over to Lupin's bedroom and distract his partner with a game of poker. However, he feels as if he'd be showing Lupin his hand too soon if he were not careful. There is no doubt that Lupin has an idea of Jigen's affections for him, still, if Jigen can prevent Lupin from meddling in his affairs, he will. 

"Dammit, Lupin," Jigen curses, flopping onto his back on the bed. "You're a handful."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The OC enters!

In the quiet confines of his room, Lupin contemplates the following two nights. He lights a cigarette, takes a puff, and blows a smoke ring into the air. He watches at the ring loses its form the higher it elevates until it dissipates into nothingness. Nearly every event that occurred proceeded as planned. Of course, a few minor hitches and one major one. 

Lupin never expected to lose his cool with Jigen. His craving for the gunman started early during their first heist together. Despite his humility, Jigen harbored incredible talents that only benefited the calm exterior of his personality; he hid well his boyish charm, a particular aspect of Jigen that Lupin enjoyed and loved the most. Lupin sighs, resting his chin upon his open palm. Perhaps one of these days, he'll come across a magic lamp and summon a Genie to wish away his romantic heart. 

For the time being, he pushes aside his desire to focus on Fujiko's astute observation. There is a slim chance Fujiko knew Lupin had planned exactly for this heist, though her intelligence and quick analysis made him wary. If she deduced the end game for this job, Lupin might as well call it off. He couldn't risk Fujiko taking this prize. However, as smart and capable Fujiko is, the woman preferred to let the men do the heavy lifting. Lupin hopes he can continue to take advantage of her manipulative tactic and avoid any unnecessary decisions of forcing her out of the equation. 

Lupin comes to a stand, blowing out the last few puffs he has of his cigarette; he moves to the window to toss the flickering stub out to the Paris street. Lupin gazes out over the Parisian rooftops and towards the Eiffel Tower. If he had it his way, he'd stay in the chic city for a week longer, although he'd hate to miss the opportunity that has fallen into his lap. From his breast pocket, he produces the newspaper clipping. He glances through the paragraph once more, a weak smirk tugging at his lips. "Wherever you are, Adam, I know you can't let this beauty slide." 

Suddenly, a memory of his young adulthood engulfs Lupin. His mind is thrown from the present and slips into the past. 

\---

The twenty-two-year-old Lupin taps his foot to the beat of Bill Evans and accompaniment. The guests of the soiree mingle to the thumping of the bass cello, rap-tap-tapping of the snare drums, and the ringing notes of the jazzy piano. Others show their sincere appreciation of the band by dancing along. 

Within the glittering mansion parlor, everyone who is somebody is in attendance at this exclusive party. Lupin glances left and right, recognizing members of the royal lineage, famous artists and musicians, political and government officials, actors, and writers. There's not a person in sight who didn't have an extensive background and enormous wealth under their wing. Even Lupin himself, while still green, had an infamous name to support his status. 

Mingling with these cats wasn't part of Lupin's plan though. His interests fell more into what these cats were wearing. The glimmering diamonds on the ladies and the gold cigarette cases of the gentlemen were begging to be stolen. Lupin checks his watch, watching the second-hand tick closer to the 12. When the second-hand starts its minute, Lupin jumps into action. A happy holler and spin onto the dance floor, Lupin forces his way in between a man and a woman. "Oh baby, oh darling, you're just my type!" Lupin takes the woman's hand and slips off her rings amid the motion of causing her to spin. She twirls unwillingly, her sight blurred, missing Lupin's hand that snags off her diamond necklace. When the woman is nearly falling over, Lupin catches her by the waist; he gifts her with a cheesy grin, to which she almost slaps right off.

"Ow, ow, ow," Lupin hisses, backing off the dance floor. Those offended by Lupin's intrusion guard the rest, forcing him out of the parlor room. The thief feigns dismay and embarrassment. He knows when it's time to make like a tree and leave. 

Lupin explores the first floor of the mansion, coming across a few other guests who value their privacy. He pays little mind to a couple hugging the walls as they have a quiet and a less-than-romantic affair. Lupin turns the opposite direction, heading for the kitchen. He pushes open the swinging door to see a full house, maids, butlers, and chefs bustle around the large kitchen preparing drink requests and hor's d 'oeuvres to satisfy the picky guests. Lupin at first goes unnoticed, taking a champagne glass for himself and a couple of caviar and creme tartlets. He watches from the corner of the kitchen, sipping his wine and popping the tartlets into his mouth like cheese puffs. It takes a few minutes, but finally, a maid takes note of the trespassing guest and shoos Lupin out of the kitchen. He resists, "The service took too long, let me wet my whistle a bit more," he cries, pushing back against the maid. With one mighty push from the maid, Lupin stumbles out of the kitchen, nearly losing the remainder of his champagne. The maid shoots a glare at the young thief before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Aww, a parting gift, you shouldn't have," Lupin says to himself, the keyring he snagged from the maid during their struggle swings around his forefinger. To hide his deed, Lupin tucks the keyring into his breast pocket and starts his venture through the mansion. He had a minimal idea of what he planned to uncover in an estate this size; however, that made the investigation all the more enjoyable. From room to room, he ambles, exploring each dresser and drawer for anything that he can keep or pawn off for a hefty sum of cash. Lupin came across jewelry that he fancied, though nothing spectacular as he had hoped.

After an hour, his hope for a find drifted further away. He decides the next room he will check will be his last; it wasn't the final room in the house, he went through half already, and it's taken him nearly an hour and a half. A single party wasn't enough time to uncover all of the mansion's secrets. 

Lupin unlocks the door and slips into the room. With a flick of the light switch, he finds himself within a personal library. Bookshelves cover every wall, containing books of various sizes and colors. Unwillingly to count each novel, Lupin estimates over a thousand books reside in one room. The decor of the library is for someone who enjoys reading, large armchairs, and a sofa sit in the center of the room. Above is a crystal chandelier, reflecting light in every corner. When he whistles, it echoes off the bookshelves and returns to him. "Some say a library is worth more than gold. Let's see if that's true."

Lupin strolls through the library, skimming the spines of the books. After a few minutes, he finds nothing that jumps out at him. "What's with all the books on gardening and art? Sheesh, this isn't worth more than dirt." Lupin shrugs his shoulders, deciding it's time to head back to the parlor. He starts his exit when he notices a bust resembling Leonardo da Vinci. Lupin hums, stepping forward to inspect the statue; unlike most busts, it's neither made of marble or plaster. Lupin drags his finger across the nose of the bust and feels the wooden texture. "Hello," he mutters to himself. With his hands, he proceeds to grope the statue for any switches, grooves, or splits in the sculpture. His forefinger feels a clasp at the back of the head, and he flicks it up; the top of the bust's head opens up, revealing a red button. "Bingo." He presses the button, and the sound of a mechanism clicking comes from behind him. Lupin turns his head over his shoulder to watch the bookshelf on the back wall jolt forward. Without any hesitation, Lupin jumps to the secret passageway and slithers inside, making sure to close the bookshelf behind him.

A long stone staircase descends beneath the mansion. Lupin takes out his matchbox, lighting a stick to illuminate his way. Every step is careful, wary of traps that may want to harm him or take his life. After a few minutes of descending, Lupin steps down into the deepest recesses of the mansion; he extends the match further, the small and flickering flame is unable to light more than a foot in front of him. Lupin resorts to search for the light switch. He gropes along the wall until his hand comes across a toggle. He pushes on the switch, illuminating the entire cellar.

"Holy Mother of Mary," Lupin breathes out his match. 

Lupin never saw so many rare paintings in one place before, and he's visited thousands of art museums. Each wall of the cellar hangs various paintings of famed artists in history. Lupin starts his investigation by examining the first few pieces of art, leaning close enough to see the grooves of the paint strokes. "Judging by the paint itself, these beauties are the original. I could have sworn I saw this in the museum last month, though." The price of this cold cellar is worth more than the royal family. He's hit a gold mine without even trying, "Oh, come to papa! Lupin will take good care of you until he sells you to the Black Market."

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. You are more than a simple thief, aren't you, Lupin the Third."

Lupin twirls around to face an older gentleman. Standing before him is a man roughly eight to ten years older than Lupin. Dressed in a three-breasted suit tailored to his athletic shape, the other man carries an air of professional confidence. His salt and pepper hair is combed back with hair oil, and his facial structure is well-defined with a strong, cleanly shaven jaw. His sharp, grey eyes pierce through Lupin's chest and into his very soul. Everything about this man screams high society, intelligence, and mystery. Lupin never felt so small and intimidated by another man before; frankly, he doesn't enjoy it.

"Well, gee, thanks for the compliment, but sorry pal, I kind of got myself lost looking for the bathroom. It looks like I'll return to the party and dance the night away." Lupin approaches the only entrance and exit. The older man takes a side-step in Lupin's way. He attempts to skirt around him, only to be met with one of the man's arms wrapping around his shoulder and turning Lupin around. "Uh, look really, I should get going."

"And leave behind this opportunity to steal the world's greatest art collection, Arsene?"

Lupin frowns, "No offense, but only my mama is allowed to call me that."

The older gentleman lifts his arm off of Lupin when the two arrive at a painting. "Tell me, Arsene, what do you see?"

Still perturbed from being called by his birth name, Lupin crosses his arms in defiance. He childishly refuses to open his eyes at first, though a gentle hand upon his back gives him the motive to play along. Lupin opens his eyes to examine the Fragonard's, the Swing. "That man is getting one heck of a view." The older gentleman chuckles to the timely jest. "Let's see… unlike copies, there's no attempt to make the paint look like it's deteriorating. The cracks closer towards the shadowy areas on the right are from the varnish and painting swelling up and expanding. This one is the original; there's no artificial aging at all on this piece." Lupin looks around the cellar, "Now that I think about it, all these paintings are originals."

"Quite the eye, Arsene. You are correct. Welcome to my art collection."

Slowly, Lupin's suspicious eyes return to the other man. "Just who are you?"

"Sire Adam Antonious Desrosiers," Desrosiers bows respectfully, "you have taken your time entering the underworld, Arsene. It is a pleasure to meet the grandson of the original Gentleman Thief finally."

Lupin's cheeks turn pink for a short second, and then he clears his throat. "Trust me, pal, I've been doing my family's work since I could talk and walk. You aren't wrong, Mr. Desrosiers, it's about time I made a name for myself separate from my grandfather. Oh, look at the time, I should get on that." On his heels, Lupin turns away from Adam. Suddenly, a tight grip grabs on his shoulder, and he feels his body pushed against the wall with ease. Lupin's wide, surprised eyes look up to Desrosiers. Their eyes lock, Lupin feels his strength giving way. Like prey charmed by a cat, Lupin's body slacks against the wall.

"You're as charming as your grandfather, Arsene," Desrosiers closes the distance, placing his foot in between Lupin's to cut off his escape. Lupin's legs instinctively shudder, leaning into the other man's thief the further he sinks. "You are still wet behind your ears, my dear boy. Empty your pockets, or I shall empty them for you." Lupin breathes out raggedly, and His nails dig into the stone wall behind him.

Lupin swallows the lump in his throat, "Whatever are you talking about, I'm hiding nothing."

With a swift tug, Lupin's jacket rips open. The young thief did his best to hide his mewl, yet is unsuccessful. Lupin winces as he hears diamonds, gold, and silver rattle on the stone flooring. Innocently, Lupin looks up to Desrosiers, "Heh, well, would you look at that."

Desrosiers leans forward, and Lupin instinctively leans against the wall with nowhere else to run. He closes his eyes when he feels the other man's hot breath against his ear. Lupin's body shivers and shudders under the lack of personal space given. "You are not the only thief in this mansion." Slowly, Desrosiers retreats to see the trembling young man before him. With a soft smirk, he lifts Lupin's chin with his index finger. Lupin bites his lower lip. "I expect the most out of you, Arsene, do not disappoint me with frivolous antics."

Lupin's lips part to reply when Desrosiers' finger lifts to silence him. He instinctively presses his lips against Desrosiers' finger, withholding another tremor. Without another word, the older gentleman pulls away from Lupin. "Come now, Arsene, I am the host of this party, and if I am absent for too long, my guests will worry. You may enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, but please do not venture too far, or I will have to chain you down."

Everything in his gut told Lupin that Desrosiers wasn't the kind of man to bluff. He releases a soft sigh of relief when he feels the tension fade as Desrosiers leaves the cellar. Lupin looks down at his treasure, deciding it is best to let it go. Despite his kinks, he wants Desrosiers to buy him dinner before he chains him anywhere. He is only a few steps behind Desrosiers when exiting the stairway to the cellar. Lupin takes one last glance around the library, rather glad to be done with this room. 

The two men leave the library in silence, Desrosiers leading and Lupin obediently following behind. As the older thief foresaw, the two returned to the party. Lupin's eyes never left Desrosiers for the rest of the night, captivated by the man's charm, class, and confidence. The air of dignity and assurance of his skills and talent ignited jealousy and yearning in Lupin's heart that he didn't expect. 

\---

A few drops of rain trickled against Lupin's face before the downpour began. The change in weather ripped Lupin out of his memory, throwing him back into the present. He quickly closes the window, looking out over the now dimly lit city of Paris. One more night until Lupin could give everything Desrosiers wanted out of him, and perhaps more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Zenigata!

The loud, drawn-out yawn alerts the living room that Jigen has finally woken up. He saunters out of the bedroom, scratching his backside and head in unison. His eyes adjust to the morning light, taking quick note of the breakfast spread on the coffee table. “Ah, did Lupin order room service? He sure knows his way to a man’s heart.”

Goemon, who sits quietly on the couch he slept on, sips his green tea. “No, I did,” he opens one eye to look at Jigen straight on.

“Oh,” dead air, “wait, your name's not on the room.”

“Is it not? Whoops, it looks like someone else will have to pay for this service.”

“Tch, no need to twist the knife, Goemon. How about next night you get the bed, I’ll get the couch, and Lupin will foot the bill.”

“You are free from your debt, Jigen.”

“Yeesh, you’re worse than Fujiko, Goemon.” Jigen plops on to the loveseat across from the samurai; he wiggles his fingers over the array of pastries before snagging a fluffy croissant. “Speaking of Lupin, is he still asleep? He’s the one who said we had to wake up early.”

“I have been awake since the Sun rose and have not seen him yet.” Goemon stares past Jigen’s head to Lupin's bedroom door. “Perhaps he left before I woke up.”

“Hmm, wonder what he’s up too-- oh yeah, I should fill you in on what Lupin plans to do. So, tonight is when the French authorities, Louvre security, and Zenigata will be transporting the art piece. From what Lupin heard, the transportation will start at 12:45 in the morning and should reach its destination by 1:30. At 1:15 sharp, you are going to drop down on the transport and make some racket. Then Fujiko will drive up to take you for a ride; the two of you will lead the police and ol’ Pops on a wild goose chase.”

“What will you and Lupin be doing at this time?”

“Glad you asked, Goemon," Jigen replies, motioning at the samurai with his croissant. "See, Lupin and I are going to get our hands on some Louvre security uniforms and disguise ourselves to be part of the transport team. When you and Fujiko are distracting the authorities, we’re gonna pretend to make sure you didn’t damage the painting. That’s when Lupin will take over the car and drive right out of the city. We’ll meet you and Fujiko in the countryside to switch cars and put the painting into the trunk. Pretty genius, huh?”

“It is well planned out. All right, I will do my best to cut down any security checkpoints we come across to ensure your departure from the city.” Goemon starts to unsheathe his katana; the Sun's light reflects on the magnificent steel and shines into Jigen's face. If it weren't for the fluff of hair overlapping the gunman's eyes, he'd be blind.

“You are a real swell samurai, Goemon.” Jigen pours himself a cup of hot coffee and dips his croissant in, swirling it around to soak up its flavor. “Hey Goemon, last night you mentioned Lupin is the only one who could tell this whatever-his-face’s forgery. Where the hell did you get that idea from?” There’s a lingering fear on Jigen’s mind; he knew part of the story from Lupin, but of course, he could tell Lupin wasn’t giving him the whole truth. He sits still in his nervous silence, cursing Goemon for taking his sweet time drinking his tea.

“A month and a half ago, during the job in New York, Lupin noticed a forgery on display at the Metropolitan. It is true that I am no expert in the arts, though it must have been a forgery good enough to convince the Met of its authenticity.”

“Lupin didn’t mention this guy’s name?”

“Not at all.”

“Then how the hell did you know about this guy?”

“When Fujiko mentioned only one man who could fool experts with his skills, I recollected that memory. How Lupin reacted made it all the more clear that there’s a history.”

“There’s history, all right. I don’t like it.”

“Do you believe these two worked together?”

“No, quite the opposite. I fear Lupin is beating himself up over this guy.”

“You’re very protective of Lupin.”

“Yeah? What about it? He’s my partner; without him, I’d have to return to picking up hit jobs and guarding half the men we’ve crossed. There’s no chance I’d survive without him.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” Jigen nearly sneers over Goemon's passive attitude.

“You are in a better position to survive on your own than Lupin is, Jigen. I believe you don’t want to survive without him. You’ve come quite attached to Lupin.”

“Haven’t we all?” Jigen grumbles.

“No, not as you have. It is endearing.”

Jigen falls silent, deciding it’s better to keep his mouth shut before he rambles into a trap. The door behind him opens up, and Jigen looks over his shoulder. He finds a tired, half-naked Lupin stumble out of the bedroom. “What?! You just now woke up?” Without even waiting for Lupin to reply, Jigen jumps over the couch and takes the thief into a chokehold. “You’re the one who told us to wake up early, and here you are sleeping in!”

Lupin flails in Jigen’s grasp, slapping at the gunman’s arm for freedom. “Can’t—breathe—need—lungs!” Jigen shows remarkable mercy and releases the thief. Lupin sighs, placing a hand upon Jigen’s chest; he attempts to push the gunman away, though his half-asleep body barely nudges him. “Always so feisty in the morning. You could use a good morning work-out to get out those kinks,” Lupin smirks with a wink.

Jigen leans back, gently brushing Lupin’s hand off his chest before the thief can feel his pounding heart. He knew Lupin would undoubtedly tease him; all he wishes is that Lupin had the decency to do it in private. “What I could use is a Louvre security uniform! We have less than six hours to get our hands on two.”

A yawn breaks out from Lupin. He waves off Jigen’s concern before giving his partner a relaxed yet tired smirk. “Don’t sweat it, Jigen, I’ve got a plan. Let’s enjoy this breakfast first.” Lupin saunters to the room phone to call up Fujiko. When she doesn’t answer, he feels his blood rush from his face. Lupin huffs a sigh, hoping that the beautiful thief is spending her time enjoying the Paris scene instead of planning against him. Lupin avoids making a scene after hanging up the phone; then, he quickly drops onto the couch to start on his breakfast.

There were no words spoken, yet Jigen could sense the concern from Lupin. He didn’t want to probe; thus, he sits next to Lupin and pours his friend a cup of coffee. As the gunman passes the cup, Lupin makes eye contact. There’s a twinkle in his eye and a warm smile on his face. Jigen feels his heart flutter, and he internally curses Lupin’s charm that swayed him.

***

With an electronic beep and a mechanical click, the male employee’s locker room door cracks open. Lupin peeks his head in; his dark eyes glance around the room for signs of life. Jigen’s hand gently nudges against Lupin’s back, encouraging him to make a decision already. The thief pushes the door further open, hoping that his assumptions of a barren locker room are correct. Jigen steps in, his body forcing Lupin to move in, and he quickly closes the door behind him.

The locker room had a distinct scent of old cigarette smoke, men’s body wash, and mildew. Neither thief paid too much attention to the smells; instead, they listened for any sounds. A few seconds of observing, they stroll to the line of lockers; ultimately, they could only hear their nervous breathing. “Okay,” Lupin’s tense shoulders slowly drop, “let’s find our uniforms.” Choosing at random, Lupin approaches a locker; the lock is a commonplace combination lock, giving the famous thief a challenge to pick the lock under forty-seconds. His fingers start twisting the knob, feeling for when the lock catches on a notch, then mentally writes down the number that catches in his head. About twenty seconds later, he twists the lock until the shackle releases. He turns his gaze over to Jigen, ready to boast about his excellent timing, observing that the gunman is already rifling through his locker’s possessions.

“Whoa, huh, what, Jigen! You’ve been holding out on me?”

Jigen grins, lifting his finger to swing around the small locker keyring with a single key. “How do you like them apples?”

“Frankly, I don’t think your apples compare to my bananas,” Lupin pouts, pulling out a uniform hanging from on the locker hanger. “Found what you’re looking for, cause I sure did. Just my size, do I have an eye for this or what?”

Jigen produces a brown, leather wallet from the uniform inner pocket. “And your bananas don’t compare to my green. Some poor schmuck is out of a uniform and his wallet. How about I treat you, Lupin? A nice Parisian coffee, what do you say?”

Lupin grins, “Oui oui, monsieur.”

With the uniforms in possession, the two close their lockers. Lupin and Jigen turn to the door, ready to set off when they hear a familiar voice roaring down the hallway. In horrible French, Zenigata is attempting to describe Lupin and his gang to what they can only assume is the Louvre security. The detective is doing a poor job, shouting out the words red monkey over and over again.

“Monkey?” Lupin lifts a brow, to which Jigen grins. “Hey, don’t tell me you agree with Pops!”

“Nah, you’re good looking the way you are, Lupin,” Jigen snickers.

“Gee, thanks, Jigen. How about saying that again without that shit-eating grin?”

Captivated in their conversation, they almost fail to realize that Zenigata is opening the locker room door. Lupin thinks on his feet, quickly grabbing Jigen by his tie and tugging him into the shower area.

Jigen holds on to his fedora to avoid it flying off as he’s dragged into the shower room. His partner starts stripping, wielding a grin. Jigen watches closely, appreciating this rare moment until reality hits him. “Lupin?” The “red monkey” thief steps forward and rips open Jigen’s shirt. “Lupin! Not here, not now!” He yells as loud as he can with a whispering tone.

“Oh? Not here, not now? Then how about later?” The thief winks, “Hurry up and get naked. We’re going to mess with good ol’ pops for a bit; he could use some love.”

“You almost had me, partner.” Jigen obeys and strips down to nothing. He and Lupin toss their clothes haphazardly in the corner before throwing a towel over it to cover what they could in the strict time slot.

“Red Monkey! Dammit, these French people can’t understand a thing, not even when you’re repeating it a thousand times." With the keycard Zenigata "persuaded" off a guard, he opens the locker room door. "Let’s see; there might be someone here who has seen Lupin.” Zenigata scans the room; he doesn’t see anyone but notices the showers are running. He approaches the shower room, spotting two men standing in separate stalls; the two men seem to be enjoying their shower, one is dancing about while the other one is humming the French National Anthem. “Uh, excusez-mom, hello?”

With the thickest accent, Lupin replies in perfect French, “What do you want; we’re off the clock, go bother someone else!”

“Huh? Uh, I don’t understand, but you sound annoyed. Doesn’t matter, I’m on a mission here! Doesn’t anyone speak anything other than French!?” Zenigata stomps his foot in frustration.

Jigen, in his best French accent, which couldn’t pass by anyone but Zenigata, replies with, “What is it with these foreigners and their noisiness? What, what do you want? Who are you?”

“Me? I'm Inspector Zenigata from Interpol, and what do I want? Well, I’ll tell you what I want! I want Lupin!”

“Lupin?! That handsome thief? You have a thing for him?” Lupin does his best to avoid snickering.

“A thing?! Yeah! I want to arrest him for the crimes he’s committed! Lupin is the best of the worst! He is on his way here to steal a priceless art piece. If I don’t catch him, he’ll get away with it!”

“What do you want us to do about it? We’re off and showering!” Jigen snaps back, retaining his French accent.

“Have you seen him? He’s a red jacket and looks a bit monkeyish. Always with a gang of thieves. A gunman, a samurai, and a pretty lady.”

“Monkeyish! I heard Lupin’s the most handsome thief around!” Lupin throws a hand out from the shower curtain and waves it, “No, we haven't seen the talented and attractive, Lupin. Now go away, Inspector Zenigaga, we’re done with you.”

“Oui, oui, go away, Zenigator. Bother someone else with your problems.” Jigen's hand pops out of the curtain, mirroring Lupin's movements.

If only the two thieves could have witnessed the inspector’s face turn blood red. Steam practically shoots from Zenigata’s ears, he's so livid. His teeth grind together, holding back the colorful language he wishes to bestow on the two guards. “Zenigator! Why you! It’s Zenigata!!” With a low growl and huff, the Inspector storms out of the locker room. The door slams behind him and his stomping feet are heard for another thirty seconds until they ultimately fade away.

Lupin and Jigen stick their wet heads out of the showers, sharing the same grin. “Your French is showing,” Jigen teases, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

“Hehe, Zenigator, not so bad! Surely, he won’t come back for seconds!”

“Seconds? He’s full of insults, and don’t call me Shirley,” Jigen winks.

First Lupin and Jigen snicker, then they chuckle, and it all evolves into boisterous laughter. The intense happiness Lupin feels is an overwhelming sensation; his eyes begin to tear up from his laughter, and his chest aches from his lungs begging for air. These are the moments Lupin cares most about when Jigen allows himself to take off his hat and reveal his mischievous personality. Nothing is more charming and attractive than genuine people living their best life without a cover-up. Perhaps that’s what drew him to both Jigen and Fujiko. Neither of them felt apologetic for who they are, and both cared little for the people who dismissed them. 

Lupin’s watery eyes focus on Jigen, and while the laughter subsides, he cannot wipe off his smile. Jigen meets Lupin’s gaze, feeling a familiar sensation roll down his bareback. He swallows the lump in his throat, his cheeks burning red in embarrassment. The two men continue this long stare, all but captivated in the moment. Jigen’s lips slowly part, “Lupin,” he breathes out his partner’s name, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Jigen. Do you hate it?”

Jigen wishes to say that Lupin will never stop giving him that look. However, there’s only a moment to whisper his partner’s name when the locker room door opens. Startled by the sudden entry, Lupin and Jigen return their heads in the showers. Both sing and whistle to give off a care-free and casual impression to whoever entered; after ten minutes, the door opens and closes, assuring Lupin and Jigen are alone once more.

“Hate to break things up, Jigen, but it’s time for us to make like a tree and get the hell out of here,” Lupin hops out, racing to his pile of clothes; he cares little about drying up and manages to pull his attire over his wet body. Jigen isn’t far behind, following his actions. Neither thief wishes to stay longer than necessary, they have plans tonight, and nothing can get in their way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW ahead. 
> 
> It's short and rather mild, only a little taste for what's to come (and it's a plot point).

The second-hand ticks across the watch’s face until it hits the 12; the minute hand finally moves after the 60 seconds conclude. Lupin releases a groan, dropping his head on to the back of the couch; he sinks his body further into the plush cushion. With four hours left to prepare, he’s feeling the anticipation and anxiety build in his core. Lupin could be free from this agony if Fujiko answered her cell phone. He has no idea where the femme thief wandered off too, and frankly, he’s beginning to suspect the lovely lady has betrayed him...again.

Lupin’s eyes rollover to see Jigen sprawled out on the couch. A burnt cigarette hangs on loosely on his lips; an ashtray sits on his chest, catching the fallen ash. Lupin stares at the ashtray, watching it slowly rise and descend in time with Jigen’s breathing. His eyes roll down from his chest, scanning the lengthy torso to the trimmed hips. Lupin’s head tilts, his mouth opens, and suddenly, he’s possessed by a perverted demon. Lewd thoughts crash relentlessly into Lupin’s mind.

The thief has a clear picture in his mind of Jigen’s bare hips bucking up into his mouth. A hand grips at his short hair, tugging up and pushing down in two swift movements. In his mouth, he can taste the bitterness of Jigen’s member, the hardness of the shaft, and the soft tip rubbing against the top of his mouth. He smells Jigen’s sweat that strangely resembles cigarette smoke and red wine. In the back of his mind, he hears Jigen’s low, rumbling moans that attempt to morph into Lupin’s name.

“Lupin.”

Mmm.

“Lupin, hey, Lupin.”

Hmm.

“Wake up, Lupin!”

As quickly as Lupin is possessed, he reverts to an innocent, sinless man once again. The thief’s eyes open wide, adjusting to the view the handsome gunman leaning over armchair; almost nose to nose, the two partners stare. “Jigen,” the thief breathes out, his eyes fluttering almost to close, “take me back.”

“Oi, oi,” with his calloused fingers, Jigen pinches Lupin’s cheeks and pulls. “Wake up, Lupin. Fujiko’s here, took her damn time scouting the city and the museum.” Despite Lupin’s jerking, twisting, and writhing in the chair, Jigen refuses to release his partner in crime. A grin appears on Jigen’s face, enjoying the moment far more so than Lupin. When he sees tears of pain welling up in the thief’s eyes, the gunman releases Lupin from his grasp. “She’s in your bedroom.”

“Bedroom?” Lupin rubs his sore, swollen cheeks, “what’s she doing in there?”

“Huh? That’s a first.”

“You’re telling me. Don’t pull too hard on the face, Jigen, I don’t want to lose my good looks.”

 _You’re not as excited as I thought you’d be._ Jigen reaches over and pinches on Lupin’s cheeks again. The thief cries out, using his hands to smack at the gunman’s arms. “Your face is too long, you could widen it out a bit, hehe.” Jigen knew too well that admitting his happiness over such a minute moment would draw attention from Lupin. Since the rainy night in the hostel, he’s been on his guard around his friend. If he gave in, Lupin may return to his antics. It’s not that Jigen didn’t appreciate the attention, he craved it, and that’s what he fears. The thief, wonderful in his own rights, is selfish, just like him. Jigen kept his heart guarded against those who wish to mess with it, and while he trusted Lupin with his life, he fears the thief could easily dismiss him for a woman named Mine. Jigen didn’t want these little moments with Lupin to disappear in consequence to his desire for his ally’s touch.

“Tell her we don’t have much time,” Jigen continues, finally releasing Lupin’s red face. “I’ll go wake up Goemon, you go talk to Fujiko.”

Lupin’s body slumps into the chair, his abused face radiates with pain. As he comes to a stand, he gets a good look at himself from the television’s reflection. The bright red marks on either cheek make him look like the Raggedy Andy doll. “Jigen,” Lupin mewls in despair, “my face.” The gunman’s no longer in earshot, leaving Lupin to wallow in his self-pity.

The mourning of his good looks quickly passes when Lupin enters his bedroom. He’s met with a nearly naked Fujiko sitting at the room’s vanity table. A plush, blue towel is all that shields her voluminous body from the world. She’s applying the last of her natural make up, dabbing the glittery gloss across her plump lips. Her warm eyes adjust to peer at Lupin through the reflection. She can’t help but smile over his vibrant, red cheeks; little did she know, those warm spots weren’t all her doing. Though, it wouldn’t be fair to say she didn’t have a hand in it.

“Fujicakes!” Lupin’s tongue drops out of his mouth, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull to take in every bit of the woman’s exposed body. He races over to her, arms open wide to take Fujiko into his arms. In his own clumsiness, the thief trips over his feet and lands before the vanity seat. Fujiko turns to face him, avoiding opening her legs. Her red high heel presses on Lupin’s face, gently pushing him away from her stool. Obediently, Lupin scoots back on his knees to give Fujiko her desired space. “What did you find out, Fujiko?” Lupin sits up from the floor, his eyes trailing up her body to make eye contact.

“The blueprints of the city and the museum are in my purse. It wasn’t hard to get them from the library, Goemon could have done it,” Fujiko replies, flipping her hair off her shoulder. “Then again, he’s too stubborn to change out of those clothes. Other than that, I enjoyed the sights, sounds, and cuisine of Paris.” From in between her breasts, Fujiko fishes out Lupin’s wallet. “Thank you for the treat.”

Suddenly, Lupin’s hands pat over his jacket, searching for the wallet that is in Fujiko’s hand. With utter defeat, Lupin drops his head. He lifts a hand up to retake the wallet. As he’s about to grab it, Fujiko flicks it out of his grasp. “Fujiko,” while Lupin’s tone is unusually stern, it’s half-hearted.

“Do you trust me?”

“As far as I can toss you,” Lupin smirks.

“Lupin.”

“All right, Fujicakes. I trust you enough to be our getaway car, beyond that, I’ll be watching you.”

Fujiko smiles, “As you should, Lupin. Be ready in the lobby with everything you need in two hours. I’ve scouted a vantage point that has a perfect view over the transit path. That is where we will start and finish the heist. If at any point we get lost or separated, go there. Goemon and I will be waiting for you and Jigen to do the bait and switch.” Fujiko kisses Lupin’s wallet prior to handing it over to him. While Lupin searches the contents of the wallet, Fujiko is already on her feet and retreating into his bathroom. Much to his dismay, Fujiko emptied him completely; even the burner cards are missing. When he looks up, Fujiko is fully dressed, another disappointment. “If you need me, I’ll be in my hotel room.” She leaves Lupin to wallow in his self-pity.


	7. Chapter 7

Lupin smells a freshly lit cigarette, and like a dog drawn to a treat, he turns on his knees to face the scent. Jigen is leaning in the doorway, nursing the cigarette between his lips. The fedora rim covers his eyes, hiding his brooding expression. He doesn’t sound satisfied, “You call that searching? I call it begging.” The jab from Jigen is unexpected, though not unwarranted. Lupin gifts Jigen a sad smirk. His stare penetrates Jigen’s heart, and suddenly he regrets ever opening his mouth. The gunman feels caught off guard, fumbling with the rim of his fedora as he ponders his next line of words. His frantic eyes search the floor for an answer, hoping to see a miraculous message in the carpet detailing. Lupin’s shoes come into his view, then the thief’s hand, which plucks the cigarette from Jigen’s lips. The gunman looks up in awe, watching the thief relax into the inhale of smoke. A trail of acrid wisp escapes from the corner of Lupin’s mouth, floating up into the air until it disappears.   


“Goemon’s waking up,” Jigen cuts the tension.

“When caught up in a tide, you can fight against the current and drown or swim with it back to shore.” Lupin takes in another inhale of the cigarette before extending it to Jigen. “Are you trying to drown me or save me, Jigen? Frankly, I like staying afloat.”

Jigen stares into Lupin’s eyes. There's a silence looms between them. Neither one breaks the eye contact. “What do you think?” Jigen replies, taking the cigarette from Lupin’s fingers. He tests the waters, getting a read on Lupin’s affection if there could be anything more than beyond their friendly partnership. If Lupin wanted to get his way, he’d have to put all his chips in the pot. Jigen expects nothing less from the gambler.

“You’re an old lifeguard trying to figure out how to swim again.”

Jigen tenses up, that’s an answer he didn’t expect to hear. He regains his composure quickly, slipping the cigarette back into his mouth. Jigen tastes Lupin on the paper, sucking the leftover saliva to savor him. The eye contact remains unbroken.   


“Lifeguards?” Goemon’s sleepy voice enters the living room. His posture and movement fail to express that he's only been up for a few seconds. He hides his weaknesses well, though with his trusted friends he allows his guard to lower. Goemon sits down on the couch; his heavy eyes stare at the two others in the doorway of Lupin’s bedroom. He waits expectantly for an answer.

“Just talking Baywatch,” Lupin grins, patting Jigen on the shoulder, “Yasmine lost her memory about how to swim and—“ Goemon drives a stare into Lupin that sticks out four inches from his back. The thief trails off with a pleased smile; he can feel the tension rolling off Jigen, allowing the situation to diffuse with relative ease. “So, Goemon, what did Fujiko do while we were gone?”

One more yawn out, and Goemon proceeds to answer. “She added notes to your map, ordered room service to her room, then took a shower in your bathroom. Scheming didn't seem to be on her mind; all she added to the map is the location of the vantage point. It can be seen from that window,” with the sword hilt, Goemon points to the far back window in the living room.   


Lupin follows Goemon’s guidance, first checking the map, then the vantage point. Jigen isn’t far behind, occupying the space at Lupin’s back to examine Fujiko’s findings. The location is the entrance to an alley stairway between two townhouses. It is secluded at the moment, and its sole use is for quick shortcuts between streets rather than actual foot traffic. Lupin imagines himself on the top staircase. The townhouses obscure his view of the city, but the transport route is visible. That is all they will need to ensure they calculate the timing correctly. Lupin smirks, standing up straight, “Fujicakes did more than treat herself. Thanks, sweetheart.” Lupin steps back into Jigen, yet he doesn’t reel away; he leans against Jigen first, and the gunman responds by placing a hand on Lupin’s rib cage. The thief turns outward to slip away from the window and makes his break to the loveseat.  "Okay, Goemon, you know what to do, right?"

“Use my sword to cut unnecessary things.”

“Bingo. While Jigen and I are upfront in the driver’s seat of the vehicle, you’ll land on top of the van, and cause a scene. Do whatever you need to get the Paris police after you. They’ll want to catch you for embarrassing them in front of good ol’ pops. You’ll hitch a ride with Fujiko while Jigen and I take care of the painting. With a few jazz hands, we’ll drive off to the location to make the switch.” Lupin leans back into the cushion, crossing his legs. He wears a confident smirk, finding no flaws in his plan. Divide and conquer is the perfect plan to ensure Zenigata and Louvre's security will be defenseless and pitiful without the Paris police. “Easiest 100,000,000 we’ll ever make.”

“You say that now but what about Fujiko? She’s betrayed us many times before, what makes you think this will be different? She’s not the sharing kind, Lupin.” Jigen adds, still gazing out the window. He waits for Lupin to defend Fujiko, ask Jigen to be kind to his woman, and honestly, he hates how he doesn’t expect anything less from Lupin.

“I don’t trust her,” Lupin replies calmly, “she’s challenging me in a battle of wits already, and I’m not planning on losing. Fujiko will work with us until the painting is in our hands, then the three of us will split the cash with or without her.”Lupin aims to occupy the entirity of the chair, his arms hanging on the back, and his legs stretched out in front. He is already in the post-celebration mode, as if the heist has already been a success.   


It’s that sheer confidence and determination that Jigen finds attractive. Whatever Lupin says, Jigen trusts him; his plans may be ridiculous, and they ride solely on his luck to survive, and yet Jigen is willing to give his life for the thief. Jigen smirks, puffing out smoke from his nose. There’s little that can contain his excitement now. His heart pounds relentlessly in his chest, and his fingers twitch as the blood flow increases. Jigen glances at the clock that sits on the desk, two more hours until they leave to prep for the heist. “How about a game of cards to celebrate our heist? Loser buys dinner.”

Lupin and Goemon both sit up in their seats, gracing Jigen with competitive looks.


	8. Chapter 8

To this day, it impresses Jigen that the majority of the population believes in an infallible security system. On the outside, any organization with the task of protecting and surveilling appears to have uncanny confidence. Yet nothing is without a chink in the armor. It takes a sinister and genius mind to know where to strike at the exact angle to have any facade come crumbling down. It’s the gang’s job to locate all vulnerable spots within a task force, to abuse and humiliate every officer, soldier, and guard until only pure anger drives the forefront of their minds. When there is only passion and rage, there’s little room for logic, as Goemon so lovingly puts it.

Finding the chink in the armor is always the most straightforward task. It takes a simple disguise to cover the more notable features of their appearances, thus remove any semblance of their former self, throwing many off their trail, including the adamant Zenigata. Lupin always has a different mask for a different situation. 

Today he’s an elderly French man with grayish-brown, curly hair that hugs over his ears and a balding crown. He is a proud owner of a meticulously combed mustache. He’s not quite round, rather skinny, though his bulbous nose makes his visage seem fuller. Accompanying the large nose is a dark mole on his left cheek, carried since birth. Although neither mole nor nose claims the prize as the centerpiece, it's the near absence of eyes, which hide under bushy, black brows, and long eyelashes. This man, which Lupin has so affectionately named, Jacques, has a thirty-year career with museum security. A man who holds his job in high regard, over his former wife, who left him for lack of attention, and over his twenty-one-year-old daughter who calls once or twice a year to ensure he’s still kicking. A hardworking man, but terrible at communicating and resorts to yelling insults until the opposite party no longer feels as if they’re conversing with a person. Jacques is a sad, lonely man who finds solace in the silent humans in the beautiful paintings created by sad, lonely people. 

Lupin breathes life into his characters, much like an actor. He builds their life story from start to finish, creating every single jolly and sorrowful moment that molds his characters into real people. If they’re too fictional, it’s impossible to maintain a solid cover. 

Playing characters is easy for Lupin. If his love for treasure and adventure did not exist, he’d be the top billing in some sort of theatre production. 

Jigen’s techniques are inconsistent with Lupin’s. Instead of creating characters, he opts to change his appearances to fit the situation and abandoning all thought of being someone else. In this scenario, he didn’t have to alter his appearance as Lupin stars as the main event. Aside from the uniform, Jigen swapped out his fedora for a baseball cap of a matching color. His role always came down to the heavy lifter and protector, which Jigen preferred; saving Lupin’s skin from his own mistakes doesn’t seem like an ideal pastime, but it’s worth it when the reward is Lupin himself. 

“Jacques” took control of the transport, using his age as a higher status looming over the other security guards. Many of the men took their job seriously as paid too; however, when an older man resembling a shabby father nagged and scolded every minuscule action, it became a job not worth the effort. Many guards found it easier to take a step back and let Jacques handle the artwork rather than endure ridicule beyond their family holidays. 

Jigen knows Lupin takes great pleasure from a well-executed plan, and despite the failure to break character, Jigen can see the gleam of enjoyment in Lupin’s dark brown eyes. Jigen provides Lupin with an extra pair of eyes as the Japanese-French thief carries the painting from the secured vault. The two of them make a beeline to the transport, refusing to allow any suspicion to rise. Already the French police and Zenigata remain at high alert, searching for any figures that resemble the Lupin gang. They patrol the museum, the vault, and the transport itself. The police cars surround the carrier, blocking all exits and escape routes. Fortunately, this doesn’t inhibit their plan.

Lupin lifts the delicately wrapped painting into the transport. He remains in character, groaning and moaning from lifting anything more substantial than a paperweight over his waist. 

“Hey!”

Zenigata’s voice startles the thief. Slowly, Lupin cants his head towards the inspector. The Japanese detective storms his way forward, carrying a French to Japanese dictionary in his left hand. “You okay, old man?” despite using his mother tongue, the sincerity breaks the language barrier. With his knuckles, Zenigata tips his fedora up, revealing his concerning eyes, which examine the elderly guard. “Don’t hurt yourself, old man. Here let me help you with that.” He tucks away the dictionary, self-assured that he doesn’t need the French language.

Before Zenigata extends his helping hand, Jigen seamlessly appears from behind the transport. French isn’t a language he is familiar with like his partner; thus, Jigen takes on the silent role, helping Lupin lift the painting into the transport. This gesture causes Zenigata to disengage from the interaction and returns quickly to search for the unwanted thief.

“I’m serious here, Jigen,” Lupin whispers to his partner as they strap the painting to the floor of the van, “pops has scarred me for life. One word from him, and I’m shivering in my boots.”

“Tell me about it, pal. Zenigata’s got a commanding voice, all right. Let’s hurry this up and get out of here. I don’t want to spend another day in Paris if I don’t have too.”

“No problem-o, partner. Hop into the driver’s seat, and I’ll stay back here,” Lupin winks.

Jigen does as Lupin requests, leaving the transport. He starts to close the doors when Zenigata’s hand juts in and halts Jigen in his motion. “Not so fast,” he sternly says, glaring at Jigen.

The gunman freezes, making eye contact with the inspector. If their cover is blown, the situation may turn hairy. He’s counted twenty armed guards and police officers combined, with two shots he could take out half of them, but that wouldn’t be enough for a clean getaway. From inside the van, Lupin watches with a growing fear of being caught. 

“You can’t leave an old man like that alone in the back; he’ll tip over.” Zenigata’s smile breaks the tension. He uses his body to create space between the van and Jigen, then slides into the back. With a casual wave to Jigen, he closes the van door. The inspector turns to face the old guard and gives him a caring smile. “I’ll be your partner in this transport. Let’s hope we don’t see any real action, don’t want you keeling over, HAH!”

For a brief second, Jigen and Lupin’s mind are one, and Jigen can hear the curses from his partner of the current situation. Despite this, Jigen chuckles as he ensures the doors are locked. He takes the driver’s seat of the transport and turns the key until the engine roars to life. Jigen patiently awaits orders from the police officers. Once the path is free of police vehicles, and all checkpoints are clear down the line, Jigen receives the sign to start driving. Jigen puts the van into DRIVE, gently puts his foot on the gas, and the heist is underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading my work, leaving kudos, and posting comments. In these turbulent times, it is essential to remember that "this too shall pass" and to take the time for self-care. Please remember to drink water, get plenty of rest, and make time for hobbies you love. I wish all of my readers the best of health!


	9. Chapter 9

The uneven cobblestone roads of Paris rocks the van. Lupin keeps a secure hold on the painting as a cover for his character and his method to ground himself. All these years, escaping Zenigata has left him wary of the inspector. One false move and this heist, including the money, will end in flames. Lupin has never seen the inspector smile for an extended period. Zenigata's smile is unnerving as if the inspector already uncovered their heist and now is smiling for his misfortune. All Lupin can do is smile back and hope the inspector doesn't notice the nervous swallowing underneath the uniform's collar. 

"So, uh," Zenigata clears his throat, and it breaks the awkward tension, "how long you've been doing this?"

The guard named _Jacques_ stares blankly at the lawman.

"Oh uh," quickly Zenigata resigns to his dictionary. Every word is broken up by him flipping through the pages, though his question is well translated, "how long have you been working?"

"Since you were diapers," the guard named Jacques replies curtly in French.

Zenigata licks his thumb to separate the pages. He repeats the answer in French, translating it rather well into his mother tongue. "Hah!" Zenigata's delayed response doesn't merit any rewards from the old guard. "You don't look that old! Must be those long lunch breaks. You know, we Japanese don't know when to quit sometimes. That's not to say we don't know how to relax. Give me a good beer and a hot bath, and I'm recharged for another week!"

The extensive Japanese dialogue falls upon deaf ears. Zenigata pauses, then realizes he must translate once again. The process takes longer than the last, yet he attempts to communicate. Lupin never saw this side of the inspector before, he's far from his fanatic self, and more inclined to connect with others. Perhaps, the old guard is reminding the inspector of a long lost uncle or grandfather.

Lupin ignores the translation, having already understood the Japanese version. He checks his watch, and his eyes watch the second hand tick. It's 1:14, a minute until Goemon's distraction occurs. 

In the original plan, Zenigata wasn't in the van with Lupin, but in some other patrol car. There is no way he will be able to escape with Zenigata in the van. He'll have to dump him out as the distraction occurs.

A bead of sweat trickles down Lupin's temple, and for the remaining ten seconds of the minute, he holds his breath. 

Suddenly, the van comes to an immediate stop. Lupin and Zenigata jerk in their seats, but clasp on whatever they could to prevent their collision with the van's walls. There's a loud metal shriek outside; tires come to a screeching halt, obscene words are shouted in French, and followed by gunshots.

Zenigata bursts open the back of the van with a kick, removing his pistol from its holster in preparation. When he steps out, Goemon's foot drops on top of his head. The inspector keeps his balance despite the heavyweight and reacts quickly when the samurai leaps off his head. Zenigata watches as the skilled swordsman flies through the air, and lands on Fujiko's car as she speeds by. 

The damage happened in less than thirty seconds; two police cars sliced in half, and the rest of the surviving vehicles are in a standstill, awaiting orders.

"Hey!! It's Fujiko and Goemon!!" Zenigata shouts towards the Calvary. "Don't stand there like idiots! After them, they're getting away!" Zenigata motions with his pistol towards the fleeing vehicle. Without hesitation, the officers who no longer have a vehicle climb into the remaining cars. The sirens blare, taking off with high velocity after the thieves.

Police sirens become faint as they gain distance from the van; the intense minute fades into the silence of the night. Zenigata stands on guard at the back of the vehicle, the sole lawman left. He understood that Jigen and Lupin would not be far behind. For a minute, he searches the empty Parisian street, then scans the empty rooftops, and finally examines the dark windows on the surrounding buildings. For now, the painting is safe. Zenigata looks over his shoulder to the terrified guard, "Take it easy now," he soothes the French guard, "I'll protect you and that fine piece of art from Lupin, you have my word—"

**_CRACK!!_ **

The sound of a rifle pierces the silent night. Zenigata flies backward, and he lands on his side with a heavy thud. The inspector lays motionless on the cobblestone road; a small pool of blood begins to puddle underneath his body. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Blood, gunshot injuries, falling from heights

The bullet ruptures the air in a sudden crack. Lupin’s eyes widen, observing his benevolent rival torn by the shot in slow-motion. Blood bubbles in the air, levitating over Zenigata’s pale, frightened face. Time suddenly reverts; Zenigata drops at full speed. The crackling echo fades into silence as Zenigata hits the floor, unconscious and hemorrhaging. “Pops!” Lupin shrieks, breaking out of character, leaping to Zenigata’s side. He uses his body as a shield, blocking any major arteries and organs from the assailant. Lupin observes the bullet penetrated his bicep, tearing through to the other side. He tears off his belt and straps it tightly around Zenigata’s shoulder to reduce the bleeding. Lupin feels for a pulse, it’s healthy, just enough to pull him through, yet he knows the inspector needs immediate medical attention. 

Jigen’s body convulses onto the passenger seat when the rifle splits the air. He uses his arms and hands to shield his neck and head. The silence returns to the night. Jigen’s immediate thought is Lupin’s safety. He opens the passenger door, rolling out into a crouch, and removing his revolver from his belt. With keen eyes, he scans the rooftops to ensure his safety. When he spies nothing, he quickly moves to the back of the van. The scene is out of a slasher movie. Zenigata splayed out in a puddle of blood, Lupin leaning over him, blood covering his hands and clothes. Jigen has little time to feel sympathy for the older man. His instincts scream to protect Lupin. “Lupin, hide!” Jigen freezes when Lupin’s tearful, vengeful eyes peer up at him. 

Lupin turns his gaze to the rooftop at his back, leering up at the silhouette that looms over the tragic scene. The figure’s arm displays outward and bowing, mirroring an actor expressing their deepest respect for the audience’s reaction. Slowly, the silhouette stands upright, and the form of the rifle morphs into a thin walking cane that the figure leans on.

“My darling,” an alluring voice slowly speaks through the tension, amplified by a speaker, “you’ve done well to draw me out, I commend you,” the silhouette lifts his hand, snapping his fingers dreadfully slow. “Those eyes, my darling,” the man groans quietly in pleasure, “how they excite me.”

Lupin sits upon his knees, facing the shadow, “You bastard!”

The shadow takes a step off the building, his foot levitating in the air before he leans forward. Slowly, the man curls his body, plummeting to the streets. Jigen watches with awe at the suicidal feat. The shadow barrels down the side of the building, when his legs pop out, landing in a crouch. Jigen’s legs shudder in fear at the sight, which motivates him to jump in front of Lupin. He raises the gun, taking quick aim and firing point-blank. The figure jolts at the force, yet it stalks forward unscathed. Jigen fires another round. The shadow pauses for a brief second, then proceeds to step into the street light.

The figure reveals himself to an older man, donned in a long black cloak, white collared dress shirt, a sanguine vest with two bullet holes, and black pleated trousers. His white hair greased back; his black, shapely brows soften his piercing grey eyes. His Greek nose protrudes from his symmetrical, defined visage. His jaw was cleanly shaven and creased with the minimalist amount of wrinkles. The man’s body has a swimmer’s build, and his skin is sunkissed. He reeks of apathetic high-class society, yet his allure strategically combats the latter; his presence lures the helpless and hopeless in for the final kill. 

“Desrosiers,” Lupin snarls.

Jigen’s mouth hangs open. His mind ricochets with thoughts; fear and jealousy overwhelm him. Yet a greater emotion conquers all others, the desire to protect Lupin from the evil before them. His stance widens, his revolver remaining trained on the vile man as he ominously stands in the street light.

A warm smile appears on Adam Antonious Desrosiers’ face, “Arsene,” he responds, his white, pristine teeth glimmer under the light.

“You didn’t have to shoot, Pops! You had the winning hand!” Lupin snaps, coming to a stand. He grabs on to Jigen’s shoulder, jerking the gunman behind his body. “Keep your distance, Jigen,” Lupin whispers.

“Lupin?” Jigen objects, yet Lupin’s decision remains unwavering. It’ll only cause trouble to continue his objections. He lowers the gun slightly to avoid misfiring at Lupin, pointing the muzzle towards the ground.

“Dearest, you came to the table to play the game. It’s ill of you to protest the rules. Now, will you kindly step aside?”

Lupin stands firmly, unwavering in his motivation.

“My darling, you are the one player that must stay in the game. I insist you step down and allow me to finish my turn.”

Lupin grits his teeth, taking a step forward.

“So be it.” 

Adam raises the cane horizontality to his eye line. The cane’s handle is a beautiful, sanguine ruby; along the shaft is golden engraved in the ebony wood, elaborate leaves, and vines stretching along its length. Remorse seizes Adam’s expression as he pulls the cane against his shoulder.

Lupin spies the hole at the end of the cane and understands its purpose. He turns around quickly, pushing against Jigen with immense force. The rifle cracks through the air once more as Lupin and Jigen drop to the ground. 

Jigen’s vision blurs through the motion. Blood sprays against the dark sky, lightly splattering against his chin. Lupin feels the biller pierce through his chest. His eyes follow the shell as it exits his body, and glides over Jigen’s right shoulder. Relief washes over him in his final moments of consciousness. Jigen feels a hot liquid pooling at his chest once they collide to the cobblestone. He tenses, rolling Lupin immediately off his body. Jigen peers down to see Lupin unconscious with a growing red stain on Lupin’s chest. Jigen turns his revolver towards Adam, though he perceives no one. He turns his head and the gun into the van; the painting is gone. Jigen grits his teeth. The time to mourn their defeat will come later. He stows away the revolver and presses his hands into Lupin’s chest to slow the bleeding. An overwhelming fear of losing Lupin crashes over his body. Tears blur his eyes as he hunches his body over Lupin. Jigen silently begs for Lupin to survive, while cursing his inadequacies of protecting Zenigata and his partner. 

Sirens softly blare in the distance. Jigen lifts his head to view the abstract vision of Goemon and Fujiko’s vehicle barrelling towards them. He dares not to take his hands off Lupin, afraid he’ll lose his partner through the careless action. 

The car screeches to a halt at Zenigata’s side. Fujiko gasps, her terrified eyes absorb the bloody scene. She goes pale as she slumps in her seat, mesmerized by her fear. Goemon reacts immediately, jumping out of the passenger side to land at Lupin’s feet. He reaches underneath his hakama, removing his wrappings to dress Lupin to the best of his ability. Goemon picks him up and sets him gently in the back seat. 

“Get in Jigen,” Goemon demands, looking back to the gunman who is lifting Zenigata. “Leave him. The police will take care of him.”

“Lupin wouldn’t leave pops; I won’t leave him.”

Goemon relents his decision and helps Jigen carry Zenigata into the passenger seat. “Jigen, get in the back. I will buy you time to get Zenigata to the hospital.” Goemon leans over to peer through the passenger window, his eyes falling on Fujiko. “Fujiko,” his stern voice snaps her out of her shock, “you need to start driving when I tell you to go. Take the inspector to the nearest hospital, then go to Lupin’s doctor outside of Jouy-en-Josas.” Fujiko’s eyes peer deeply into Goemon’s, and her terror washes away. She nods with determination. “I believe in you. Now, go.”

Fujiko slams her heel against the gas pedal, violently jerking the wheel left to speed down the street. She skillfully navigates the narrow streets towards the nearest hospital. Her eyes glance to the inspector at her side who groans, then to Lupin in the back. She spies Jigen holding Lupin against his chest, his hands pressing firmly against the open wound. Fujiko has never seen Jigen stricken by despair, and she feels a devastating dread overtake her. It fuels her conviction to save Lupin and their chivalrous rival.

The hospital comes into view, and Fujiko slams on the brakes to screech to a halt. She reaches over to the door, opening it and pushing Zenigata out to the street. Fujiko slams her fist against the horn, blaring it to alarm the employees. It takes only two horn blows for a nurse to race out, and Fujiko speeds off. The passenger door closes from the acceleration. She looks through the rearview mirror to see Zenigata’s saviors tending to his needs.

At the maximum speed, Fujiko arrives at the doctor’s abode in less than twelve minutes. She stumbles out of the driver’s side, the engine still humming, and she rips open the back door. “I’ll grab his feet.” Fujiko lifts Lupin by his legs, Jigen holding Lupin under the pits, and they carefully carry him to the door. Fujiko lowers Lupin’s feet and faces the door, slamming the door with her fists. “Please open up, doctor! Please, doctor, we need your help! It’s Lupin!” The tears that Fujiko held back suddenly pour, and she screams, kicking at the door, “You bastard, open up!”

“Fujiko,” Jigen’s empty voice demands her attention. She turns to look at the revolver aiming at her. She immediately moves to the side and covers her ears. Jigen shoots the knob off the door, unlocking it instantly. Fujiko pushes against the door, opening it with ease. She charges in, yelling for the doctor.

An old, plump French man stumbles down the stairs with a rifle. He points it at Fujiko, then he sees the ebbing Lupin, pale and drenched in blood and sweat. He lowers the gun, hurrying down the stairs to the door. “He hasn’t much time, bring him in.”


End file.
